A Place For Concern
by Lipush
Summary: For years they managed to put killers behind bars. It was their own personal struggle for justice. But just because the suspect is caught, doesn't mean their war is over. The multi-chapter sequel to "Chekhov's Gun".
1. Chapter 1

**A/N- this is a multi chapter piece to accompany my previous story. Lately, the subject was against discussed, which inspired me to write this down. **

**It is very recommended that you read "Chekhov's Gun" first.**

* * *

**Beloved Rose, **

**You were blameless**

**I still mourn for you**

* * *

Early September, THEN

The small Café and Bar located at the 703 West 133rd Street reeks of cigarette smoke and what feels like cheap beer.

Ashley Beilinson sits quietly next to the long wooden table, watching as the overly-wasted Texan guy from downtown tries to dip his sorrow in both the bottle and his awful guitar playing.

It practically hurts her ears.

Being raised with some tough guys on the streets, as her violent father gave her one punch to many, and her old lady couldn't possibly care less, one of the basic words she was taught at the time was 'Awareness'.

And awareness comes in many forms.

It also means, 'don't make a fool out of yourself on open mic nights.'

"Uugh," she moans frustratingly as she drops hear head in her palms momentarily, mumbling "Give me another one, Brady."

The bartender arches an eyebrow, "Don't you have to drive home tonight?" he asks, "I think I'll cut you off."

Her head rising, she looks at him with contempt, and he has to force his chuckle down, "I have a ride home," she explains, "C'mon, bring me everything you have, and make it a double, if I have to take more minute of Fred torturing my sensitive ears, at least serve me something."

His lip twitching with sympathy, he pours her a drink, and she twists her lip, "Dude…." She mutters after forcing the chaser down, "What was that?"

"Something that describes the day you've just had?" he suggests usefully.

"That's disgusting."

"Aha."

"Gruhh," she shakes her head, then sighs again.

Brady takes her in, "You brought your guitar tonight, Ash?" he squints quizzically.

"Yeah…" she says slowly, her eyes turn to look at the big screen hanged above Brady's head, "Didn't feel like singing tonight, actually."

"You should," Brady says, turning to clean some of the glasses, "You're a talent, and you have to admit, this open mic night couldn't come on a better evening."

He has a point. Brady isn't stupid; He knows that these days, his incomes are to get higher, considering… everything that's happening now. And well, a man has to feed his family, right?

Speaking of which...a man enters the bar at that moment, catching Ashley sitting on one of the stools, chatting with the bartender. He approaches and takes a seat next to her.

His badge is tossed on the wooden board casually, and he clears his throat, asking for a scotch.

"Hey, Ryan," Ashley greets, her own tired voice mirroring his dark mood, "Another tough night?"

He barely acknowledges her, nodding feebly, "Yeah…" he says, "just a long…wasted, day."

She bumped into Ryan a few times before, when he and his team were with the search groups.

That is why the clients' numbers are on the rise. Divers and cups often come over once their shift is done, before heading home with a sober driver waiting outside.

She knew their shifts by heart, almost. They keep coming over, checking out what's happening on the news; the television screen is what keeps them posted, most of the time, anyway.

She met Ryan a few times before, his partner Esposito came over there twice. They usually just sat and listen to her melancholic guitar songs. Always, somehow, sad songs.

Songs about poverty. Illness. Injustice.

She has no real love life, so she can't really sing about that. Her dreams are out of reach, so those don't really enrich her songs. All she can think about is cruel….and cold…reality.

The view outside, the endless stream of the Hudson River, are their reality, now.

Ryan blinks then, a large gulp, and the scotch is gone; he turns to look at the stage, and groans, "_Man_, this guy sucks," he refers to Fred, "He sounds like an injured dragon."

"Don't I know that," Ashley mumbles grumpily, and then Ryan turns to her, "You're not doing your thing tonight?"

Shrugging, she offers no verbal response, her eyes turning back to the high screen above, "…And though the search teams are not at all giving up, It starting to look like both suspects are trying to draw fire away from them, giving no straight answer considering the girl's possible location…"

Releasing a tired sigh, Ashley says the obvious, "You're still here, so I guess I don't have to ask."

Ryan pushes the glass away. While still being here, nobody's to lose their mind to alcohol, that much was obvious to all, "Nope," he emits, "Nothing."

"So you're here to drown your troubles in booze till it's time to go home to Jenny?"

He offers a light shrug. He's just so very tired.

Deciding in favor, Ashley gets off the stool, stepping towards the stage, "Then you might as well make a night out of it," she says quietly.

The audience gives unenthusiastic clapping, just so that Fred will finally do them all a favor and step off of the stage. Grasping her guitar, she waits for the guy in charge to announce her name and age, and she starts slightly passing her fingers through the strings, her eyes stare at the big screen ahead, as a small face of a tiny girl is again broadcasted, the screaming title cries, 'Where is Rose'?

She closes her eyes momentarily, letting go, focusing only on her music, the rhythm, the words that leave her lips soothingly-

You're drifting with the flow

Into rivers of ache and doubt

Standing on shore, looking below

We try to reach and pull you out

Tears in her eyes, she ignores them, her body swaying lightly. Outside, it's almost possible, if listening carefully, to hear the slight rustle of the Hudson River streams, and Ashley painfully imagines what those streams might have swallowed over 3 months ago.

Slowly, slowly, you withdraw

And it seems you're gone for good

Diving into depths of sorrow

So you won't sink in solitude…

As Brady and some of the café's clients cease from chatting, suddenly focusing on Ashley's soft voice, Ryan collects his coat and wordlessly leaves the bar.

They all still have much work to do.

* * *

MONTHS LATER, NOW

Richard Castle is NOT amused.

Sitting next to Beckett, whose busy playing with her pen, he can clearly see she's somewhat disturbed, too.

They were called here an hour ago, and frankly, he already has a bad feeling about this. The only time they talked with the woman in question was months ago. When they were told she's the one speaking for the prosecution. If needed , you'll be called.

Which is probably the case, now.

Long months working with Beckett, he knows that cases are when the team was called to trial, but mostly it was for evidence presenting, which didn't include him, much. As in, at all.

But this is a different situation. And She called.

This can't be good.

They were told that Victoria Gates will be the one to speak in behalf of the prosecution. Why they were called in here, is beyond both of them.

Which is why Castle is almost brooding, and Beckett slightly feverous.

Looking around, Castle admires the high book-shelves and the dark yet warm surrounding. The living-room is not over-sterile, the house, while being very big, is still home-y.

A thin, blond woman enters the living-room.

Even though it's late evening, she's still dressed in her lawyer suit, perfect red lipstick is visible and she's still perfumed and very formal.

Mason Blake.

In her early 30s, she's one of the most respected criminal lawyers this city presented in the last 5 years. Known for her strict ways, in court she's like a lioness ready to pounce in her helpless prey.

And her helpless prey is Ronald Ranson.

"Sorry I kept you waiting," she states, then nods, "Would you like something to drink?" never one to forget her manners, especially tonight.

They shake their heads, "No, thanks," is the soft response.

"Very well," she responds, and then sits.

Castle frowns.

Years ago, he learned to read facial expressions. Work Hazard, you may call it. Some of it he learned from Beckett. But he had his fair share of this ability way before the NYPD. Hanging around will all sorts of people gives you that.

And what he sees here is a woman with bad news.

_Crap._

"So, here's the thing," she starts, slowly, "We've been having a slight…disagreement, for the lack of a better word, with Swaid; Right now, I've been pushes to accept the defense's offering."

Beckett doesn't like the sound of that, And Castle groans; "Defense's…. they're calling for a bargain plea, don't they…?" she feels her blood approaching the boiling point.

"Yeees…" answers Blake slowly, her lips pursed in annoyance.

Great…just fucking great, "And what are they calling for, exactly?"

Clicking her tongue, the attorney reveals, "Ronald Ransone will admit to first degree murder, be found guilty to serve life imprisonment…-"

"…So where is the catch?" Castle interjects.

Mason Blake exhales, "Marie-Charlotte…" her gaze wonders between them, "will be cleared from murder charges, to admit to Criminal endangerment, instead," Castle's eyebrows arch, and Beckett has to hold the urge to sneer in disgust, "To be imprisoned for 7 years and fined with 25,000$" she finishes.

"You can't be serious…" Castle mutters, appalled.

"This is their request," Blake says.

"This is _outrageous_!" Beckett fumes, rising up from the couch to pace around the room furiously, "You guys are taking the deal?!"

"It's seems like a plausible idea, currently speaking."

Beckett spreads her arms, clearly frustrated, then calls, "Plausible?! It's _unheard-of_! Marie-Charlotte was the one orchestrating this whole thing!" she gestures here hands, emphasizing, "And you're letting her off the hook, just like that?! You're letting her get away with _murder_!" she cannot believe what she's hearing.

Blake shakes her head, "That's not true, detective," she comments, "We have no evidence of such a thing, which is the problem. Don't get me wrong," she adds when noticing just how furious the homicide detective really is, "I want both their heads chopped off, that's my job, but right now, I'm against the wall here; My hopes are that this thing, which is beyond ridiculous, won't be accepted by Judge Hofkins. We aimed for a jury-trial, but right now," she shrugs, "We cannot hold anything against Marie. My one aim was to bring Ranson to justice, which is what I'm going to do."

Passing a hand through her locks, Beckett turns to look at Castle, as both exchange meaningful looks, "So, why are we here?"

"Just in case…" Blake says, "That this thing won't go smoothly, I was to ask of you to speak in court-room for the prosecution. As Ms. Beckett interrogated the suspect, her testimony might be of much value. I spoke with Victoria Gates earlier today, as she was to speak in the hearing, but that's not going to be the case."

Blinking vigorously, Beckett nods, "Of course, I will." She agrees.

"Good…" sighs Blake, "That's good…" taking a deep breath, "One more thing…" she says, "The judge will be accepting the plea, as we see it, as they mostly do in this case. All we have is pointing towards Ranson anyway. For all they know we have our guy. But I'm not at all comfortable with the idea of anyone cutting Charlotte some slack. She will be punished, but for that to happen, we need something concrete."

Beckett gets where this is going, "You want me to fish on Marie Charlotte?" she guesses.

Mason then turns to look at Castle, "Marie has history," her gaze turns to Beckett, "Her time with Ben, her time before Ben. Those days when she visited her friends in France. We suspect that some of the evidence we held. Letters, recordings…files… just…disappeared. I think this woman is far too clever than most of us gave her credit for. If we're to built the case against her, we need those evidence found. Why only now we discovered they're gone is beyond me. She sits till trial for abuse. I want to fry her for murder. I can only do that with the cops' help."

"You can count on us," says Castle, his eyes dark, and Beckett knows that determined look. She can't blame him, as she feels the same.

"I need you guys to keep Vivian posted on that, too," Blake adds, "I'm sure she will be willing to help."

"Wouldn't that be an understatement," Castle all but growls, "Have you spoken to her? She blames Marie for this whole fiasco. This woman is out for _blood_."

"Great," emits the attorney quickly, pleased that they're on common ground, and author rises from the couch to join his muse, as Beckett backs towards the door, concluding their meeting, "That's what I'm counting on. I'm glad we see things reasonably. After all, it's about justice."

Beckett has to disagree, "No," she says tiredly, "It was about justice when they first got caught…" she shrugs, "Now?... Now it's about Rose."

And they both turn to leave.

* * *

**A/N- justice isn't always achieved once a suspect is caught. It's a whole process to go through.**

**Please read and review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N-**** So here's the second chapter. Please ****R&R!:)**

* * *

**Chapter 2:**

* * *

Bedford Hills correctional facility and remand center

6:47 AM

A loud chiming is their wake up call.

A young, short woman opens her eyes slowly; a silent sneering growl escapes her mouth before she can help it.

She slowly pulls herself out of bed, her empty blue eyes lock on the other woman in the cell.

_Olga Tzevtakov._

She sits there, staring ahead, till her eyes fall on the young woman in front.

A battle of wills unofficially starts. Like every morning.

And just like every morning, Marie-Charlotte gains the upper hand, as after a few seconds Olga lowers her gaze back to her small book wordlessly.

Marie-Charlotte is satisfied.

Olga has proven herself to be weak. Doesn't argue or stand her ground, letting Marie-Charlotte become the dominate female in their limited territory.

She knows Olga fears her. At the age of 40, Olga had seen the cruelty of the world already, but she wasn't that crazy to try and challenge Marie-Charlotte.

Olga was brought in several weeks after she herself was tossed in here. Silly woman drowned her toddler in sea, then called to report it herself.

Apparently, her inspiration for doing the crazed act was Marie-Charlotte herself. She, as well as her murderous husband, were why 4 year old Michael was killed, to begin with.

She lifts herself off of the bed, sending Olga a warning glare, and the other woman blinks casually.

Approaching the small hatch separating their cell from the passage, Marie-Charlotte senses the increasing noise-level, as the cells buzz open and inmates make their way towards the dining-room.

Breakfast mostly includes oatmeal and fruits, some dry buns and sometimes cream. While other inmates leave their cells, her eyes narrow as her metal barrier stays sealed.

She will not sit at the table with the others, neither will Olga. Their isolation is due to protective custody, which prevents them from going outside between 6 and 10 AM.

As soon as Marie-Charlotte arrived she became the topic of discussion. The interesting news, the prey they were all hoping to lay their hands on.

Of course, they all knew right from the beginning, why she was here. It's a women facility after all. Their favorite activity is gossiping.

And Marie was hard to ignore.

Yes, they all knew what the 24 year old woman was doing here. Locked up for murder- she slew her own young, no less, which automatically gained her the notorious red card.

For the first few days they'll wait for her, throwing threatening glares at her direction, just waiting for the moment she, or the rats, drop their guard, and then, no doubt, they'll kill her.

Sneer, kick the metal door, spit on the hatch, those were daily activities for them.

The guards will accompany her and Olga on their walk outside, between 4 and 6 PM, the time when most of the girls were in their activities inside the building, but at one time, and one time alone, she was touched.

Margot was the name of the inmate. A brave one, but also a stupid wanna-be-hero. Sent by the Silver-eye.

Everyone was afraid of the Silver-Eye. Killed her man for threatening her boy, Marie-Charlotte was potentially her preferable prey. It's the prisoners' taboo, those who kill children are not safe behind bars, whoever kill their own offspring should sleep with one eye open.

Margot was the tool Silver-Eye used to get under Marie's skin. For telling her "I'm after you".

She got the knife; the rats themselves were dumbfounded on how she pulled that off. The blade got way too close to Marie's silky skin, as she growled at her that "Rose sends her regards" before pouncing, her intention one and only, to kill Marie-Charlotte.

Marie lived to see the next sunrise, but Margot's fate was left unknown.

Silver-Eye is still embittered about that incident.

Turning around, she narrows her eyes at her cellmate, as the woman's eyes leave the book to focus on the slim young woman in-front.

Unbuttoning her jumpsuit, Marie-charlotte descends to the lavatory seat, emptying her bladder.

Tzevtakov's eyes leave her, turn to focus on the book again. Marie feels like rolling her eyes. The bitch has no problem masturbating in front of her, loudly so, but taking a leak is embarrassing?

Go figure.

After finishing her business, the stands to her feet, ignoring her cellmate.

The familiar buzz takes her by surprise. She knows it's far from routine, to be let out to the garden at the tame, not to mention dangerous, but she barely has time to question the sudden change, as 'Big Beth', a large sized guard moves forward, through the open metal door, grasping her arm tightly, growling at her- "Out, Charlotte!" she barks, pulling on her arm, "You're lawyer's here to see you."

She let herself be pulled out of the cell, the buzzing sound can be heard again, and she's held fiercely in 'Big-Beth's arms.

'Big Beth' marked her as target the moment she arrived, making sure that Marie-Charlotte's presence here is turned into a living nightmare.

She gloats on her suffering, it seems.

As they walk down the passage, Marie's delicate form held in Beth's arms like a cub in a predator's jaw, she cannot help but smile, "You'd like to hear what Swaid has to say this morning, _Putain_," she sneers at her, emphasizing the cuss in French, as she pushes her into the meeting room at the end of the hallway, making sure her handcuffs are perfectly placed.

As the door opens, a guard stands at the corner, next to the table sits a well-dressed woman, her black hair falls on her back in waves, and her usually self-satisfied aura is gone, exchanged by severe looking features.

"Marie-Charlotte," her voice is stern, "We have a lot to talk about."

* * *

Anywhere but there...

"So, let me get this straight," Esposito plays with a ball of paper, throws and catches it, obviously displeased, "She wants us to dig up some dirt on this chick, so they won't let her walk out?" he doesn't like the sound of that. Don't they have enough evidence to lock her up for good?

Shaking her head slowly, Beckett takes a breath, "Not…exactly," she explains slowly, "Blake…hinted, so to speak, that they try and go for bargain plea, as it seems, they don't have enough to nail her for murder, only for negligence, they cannot even tie the abuse offense to her, as even the grandmother says that any actual physical violence, was related to the husband alone. So, unless we find something concrete to tie her to the child's death, she's gonna walk out after 7 years, tops."

Ryan is disgusted, "This isn't right!" he protests, appalled, "This woman planned this to begin with, she should serve time for what she's done!" he shakes his head, angered.

"Right there with you, buddy," Castle murmurs melancholically from the other side of the desk.

Beckett tsks at them both, "There is no question about it, but we are not judges, it's not our job to decide on the punishment, we're here to find evidence."

There's something Castle doesn't get, "Yeah, but if they don't have enough on her, how come she's in jail to begin with?..." he asks, tilting his head, "The judge decided to keep her locked up for a reason. We all know she's guilty. We just need to…prove it…" he stares ahead, concentrating.

Beckett scratches her forehead frustratingly; She believed this case was well behind her, now they have to sink in the mud again? "This couple is arrested for murder, it means we still have the jurisdiction to dig in their past as part of this case, and that's what we're going to do," she is determined, "Ryan, Espo, I need you guys to try and find any possible thing in Marie Charlotte's past that can help us," they exchange looks, nodding, "Castle and I will talk to relatives who aren't testifying. This killing was premeditated. Since we know Marie didn't really loved this girl, there has to be some actual evidence to support the assumption that she planned this long ago, so we…-" her phone was to cut through her words.

"Hold that thought," She points out, then answers quickly, "Beckett."

Listening carefully, her forehead wrinkles, as she nods and mumbles "Hhhmf" and "ok," then hangs up.

Her gaze wondering between Castle and the boys' curious looks, she emits, "We've got a body."

* * *

"Seriously?!" Esposito grown, covering his face as he approached the crime scene.

The smell was hideous.

He was used to trashy dark alleys and crappy old dumpsters, but this…this was just gross. Really gross.

They were at the 311 West 89th Street, down the road was a back-settled building, but what interested them was the narrow passage right next to the basement.

Urgh.

"I mean, _seriously_?!" Esposito asked again, glaring at their…their…well, their….thing.

"That is what I should ask," Lanie's frustrated voice calls from behind him, as she observes the scene in-front.

Usually when they arrive, they find Lanie already kneeling down next to their fresh-one, face of "all business" in place. But not this time.

Hands on her hips, she steps her foot repeatedly, obviously annoyed. Sending an angry look to the cop standing next to her, she points at their victim, "Seriously, AJ?" she basically whines, "What am I supposed to _do_ here?!"

"Uhhhm," the tall cop says sheepishly, "You're the bodies' lady…" her narrowing eyes, raised eyebrow, hint that she wasn't expecting to hear that as an excuse, "And this is…" he mumbles awkwardly, "well, this is…-"

"This is…." She cuts through, "This is not a body…this is a _skeleton_!" releasing a sigh, she clarifies, "I don't _work_ with skeletons! There are no body tissues here, what you guys need," she turns around to the group, "Is a forensic anthropologist, which, just to mention, is not me!" she turns back to AJ, and growls.

He backs away slightly.

Biting on her lips, Beckett sighs, "Espo, call the captain," she says, "Tell her to bring an FA over, to check this one out," she he nods and she turns, Lanie decides to check out their victim, if she's here, she can make herself useful, or at least try, right?

She leans next to their skeleton, which is at developed stage of decomposition, carefully examining what they have.

Being an ME, she has to know the basics, even with the lack of obvious professionalism on that specific field.

Examining the bones up close, a sudden sense of familiarity envelops her. 'Wait a minute…' she thinks, 'This…this isn't right…'

"Lanie's right, we have to wait for the other team to come here…" she's about to turn around, letting the profs take this one, when Lanie calls, "Kate, wait a minute!"

Beckett turns around, "What is it?"

Lanie's eyes widen in shock. This….this can't be, "Paget…" she mumbles, stunned, then examine the left leg-bone carefully, then nods. Leaving the leg momentarily, she turns to examine the bridge of the nose.

A slight fracture…

She feels like all air just left her lungs, as she re-examines the leg, "Paget…" she says again, with determination, "That's a rare bone-disease," she explain, "basically, it causes twists and fragility of bones," gulping aloud, "This is something I learned while being in Med-school, I recognize this shape, and combined with the bridge of the nose's fracture…." she stops, her voice shakes, "I know who this is".

Beckett raises and eyebrow, "His name's Joseph Kospin," Lanie concludes sadly, "He was my friend."

* * *

"Joseph Kospin is indeed the name of our vic…" Esposito confirms, hanging a photo of a smiling young Caucasian male on their murder board, "His sister reported him missing in May, was a student at university of New-York, didn't come back home one night…no one saw him ever since or knew what happened to him," he arches an eyebrow, "Whe, till today, that is."

Scratching her chin, Beckett nods, "Get hold of the next of kin, Ryan," and he gives a nod and leaves the room, And Castle considers, "Well, Technically, it could just have been a sudden collapse due to his disease…"

"…Except that it wasn't," Esposito reappears from behind them, waving his cell-phone, "Got a call from the FA working this thing? Cause of death was blood force trauma to the skull. We're looking at an old-good homicide here."

Beckett blinks, "You know, I talked to Lanie?" she shares, "She's still a stunned, but that aside, she told me his disease was fast developing. He didn't have much time left….-"

"And who kills a guy who's about to die, anyway?" thinks Castle aloud, "I know it's cold to say it, but…One can just…wait him out. Why kill?"

Esposito raised his eyebrows curiously. "Well, maybe his sister can help us with that."

* * *

"I can't believe he's actually gone," Sandra pulls on her nose, tightly, blowing into her tissue a minute later, "who would have done this?" her voice shakes, her redden eyes conveying grief.

"That's what we're here to find out," Beckett says with the same sympathetic tone she always uses with mourning families, "Sandra, can you think of anyone who'd want to hurt your brother?"

Shaking her head vigorously, she says "No!" her eyes boil up with newly-fresh tears, "He was loved by everyone! So friendly, there wasn't a person in his life who didn't like him!" her bottom lip quivered, "He was friendly, loving. I don't know…who would do this?"

Nodding, Beckett bites her bottom lip, "Sandra, when was the last time you saw your brother?"

Blinking, the mourning sister answered, "The day he disappeared. He called that afternoon, telling me he was meeting with a friend in Broadway. Everything was perfectly fine when we spoke, but…" the then stops, considering, "He called again, about late afternoon? And he said something weird…-"

Castle frowns, "What did he say?"

"…He said 'I shouldn't have said anything'…I think he repeated that few times in our conversation… I didn't know what it was all about…I told the cops that after reported him missing, but they said it didn't mean anything, and I just…never mentioning it again…." Her eyes widen, "Oh, God! You think that it has something to do with his death?!"

Beckett isn't really sure, "Did he tell you what he saw, exactly?"

Gulping, Sandra admits, "He said he's following someone, someone who looked suspicious. He said something about a weird looking bag, I told him if he thinks it's like what happened in the Marathon, and that if he thinks there's someone strange in a public place he should report them, but…nothing happened after, and, I guessed he was just imagining things. But then…he disappeared."

"What did he say, exactly? A man with a strange-looking bag?"

A quick nod, "Yeah, suspicious, that he was following him. That was all. He kept talking to me, so I guess he walked some time. I had no idea he could have done it, in his condition! But, well…"

"You said he was meeting a friend on Broadway?" Beckett asks, and Sandra nods, "That's…4 streets from where his body was found, you live south from the 9A, is that correct?"

Sandra nods again.

"Do you remember when was the last time you guys spoke? I know it's been months, but…"

"…No, detective, I know!" she interjects, "He disappeared right after, I couldn't possibly forget it even if I tried. It was 5:32 PM, May 25th. They found his car parked at the West 96st street, but he wasn't anywhere to be found"

Ever the one with the crazy theories, Castle's wheels start spinning, as he pulls out his cell-phone, GPS turned on quickly. "Beckett?" he turns to look at her, and she seems deep in thought. Clicking the tiny keys quickly, he feels like a bucket of freezing waters landed on his head, "The West 96st street, It's south of Riverside Dr. Beckett!" his eyes widen, and she knows what he's getting at, "On May 25th!"

No, no, no…It just can't be…. Too much of a coincidence, it's not natural! But then again, "You said..5:32 PM?" he wants to make sure she gets it.

"Well, yeah" Sandra sniffs again…"Why…why are you looking at me like that? What's going on?"

Castle leans close, "How long does it take to drive from SoHo to Riverside?" he shrugs, "A man with a suspicious looking bag?! I mean, C'mon!"

Her thoughts running through her mind, she has to admit to the possibility….

"Sandra," she says weakly, like suddenly remembering the young woman is still there, "I think there might be a possibility that your brother was killed because of something…something he might have saw…" her eyes widen in surprise, "It's a very extreme possibility," giving Castle a meaningful look, "But it is possible. And if that's the case, I believe we can help each other very much." The cop's eyes sparkle.

* * *

All while Castle and Beckett are at the break-room, Esposito has a right time finding his breakthrough, "C'mon, Leona, how long does it take to track down one single guy?" he tries, clicking the keyboard impatiently, "I mean…-" Ryan appears from behind him, and if judging by his stance, he just found something, "Leona, I…I'll call you back…" and he hangs up, "What's up, bro?"

Handing his partner a closed folder, he says, "Don't have anything on this Kospin guy, but I did find something interesting in the Ranson case…"

Frowning, Espo asks "What?"

"Take a look," he waves the folder.

Taking it, he opens the folder to look at the files, all while Ryan says smoothly, "I find it interesting why no-one bothered to check into this earlier…." He then explains, "About 5 years ago, before leaving for France, Marie Charlotte was hospitalized. What you see there are two names enlisted, her family name."

"Yeah, but…they walk about two people here…" Esposito reads down, confused.

"Uh-uhhh…" Ryan shakes his head 'No', "Keep reading… look what the report later says…"

As Esposito's eyes travel over the lines, those widen suddenly, "No freaking way!" he suddenly calls, eyes turning to look at Ryan.

"Oh, yes way," Ryan confirms, "Rose wasn't the first child found dead under her mother's watch. She was with child months before Rose…." Ryan then drops the bomb, "This child is dead."

* * *

**...TBC...**


End file.
